By a Route Obscure and Lonely
by Mama Vader
Summary: A young woman is forced to serve the Sith Lord. And it's hate at first sight.
1. Chapter 1

Title: By a Route Obscure and Lonely

Author: Mama Vader

Characters: Vader, OC

**By a Route Obscure and Lonely**

The raid on her village had come just before dawn. It was a cold morning, the land still caught between winter and spring, cold one morning, merely cool the next and then back again. Samri had been reluctant to leave her warm bed, even though she knew her father would soon be rousing her from her cozy nest.

Her brother, Yantir, had been moving around in the next room, getting ready to feed the livestock and he had stuck his head in through her door. "Samri," he called softly. "Best get that fire going or Da will have your hide."

With a groan, she had rolled over and buried her head under the covers. A distant roar of sound had only gradually intruded on her consciousness, but then Yantir had given a yell and the door to their small home had been reduced to splinters.

The villagers had been efficiently gathered up and then separated by the white armored figures, who kept blasters trained on the frightened, huddled groups. The young women had been put into one group, the young men in another and the elders and children in a third. Each of the assembled, frightened groups had been guarded by the anonymous and menacing figures in white.

Her brother Yantir was standing beside their cousin, Lamtas, who was newly married. His bride, Ylez, was crouched by Samri, her hair hanging wildly about her face. Her clothing was torn from where a trooper had ripped her from Lamtas' protective arms. Samri's father was stone-faced, standing with the rest of the elders. Everyone looked at each other with shocked expressions, none of them quite sure of what would happen next. They watched as their homes were burnt, their crops destroyed, and their livestock slaughtered. Even if they survived the day, there would be many lean months ahead of them.

Then a painfully thin man in a crisp gray uniform had stood in the center of the village and read from a data pad.

"Citizens of the village of Harrko: By Imperial Proclamation, all residents of Harrko are hereby charged with treason for the harboring of an outlaw Jedi by your shaman, Illo Meskinir. As traitors to the Empire, all properties, including sentient beings, are hereby confiscated to be distributed according to the will and great mercy of our great Emperor."

They all stood, staring dumbly at the man who wore such a coldly pleased expression. Their shaman had died two winters ago and now they were being held responsible for his mercy to a wounded stranger?

"Load up the slaves!" The gray man ordered the troopers.

For the first time, they realized their peril. Death would have least ended their misery, but slavery? The horror of that word settled on the faces of the villagers as they looked helplessly at each other. The three groups were directed to three different transports. All around were wails of despair as loved ones were literally ripped from each other's arms and children were lost to their mothers' sight forever.

Quickly and with terrible efficiency, the troopers loaded the woman into one transport. The children and elders were ushered to yet another. The transports lifted away before the men loaded into yet another, bound for a slave labor camp.

Once on the ship, the women were told they were being sent to the pleasure houses that served the Imperial troops stationed all over the galaxy. They were human and they were young, a prime commodity that would please the Emperor's loyal troops. Those who fought for the Empire must be rewarded, and they were nothing but traitors and slaves.

Three days into their journey, the man in gray came to the cargo hold to look over the merchandise. A few particularly pretty young girls were separated out, including Samri. After this was done, a tall man who wore a dark cloak entered the hold.

"My Lord was very specific," Samri heard the cloaked figure telling the man.

"I'm sure we'll find something to suit him," the gray man said.

"We shall see." The other man's voice revealed his doubt.

"Here are the best of the lot," Gray explained. "A poor shipment, but one must make do," he said apologetically.

"Yes, one must," the tall man's voice was dry.

Four women, Samri, Ylez and two others were presented to the cloaked man. The hood was thrown back and a pale hand came up and turned Ylez's face, pale gray eyes studying her carefully. His mouth turned down in disappointment and he shook his head.

"No, she's not got the right coloring," he said dismissively. "And besides, she's weak." Ylez's eyes were swollen and red, her face blotched and tear-stained.

A rough hand shoved Samri forward. She stumbled at the unexpected push but quickly righted herself. She squared her shoulders and gazed at him with defiance, not really caring if he killed her in that moment.

The man was probably her father's age, but he had not spent long grueling hours in the harsh sun and wind. Instead, he had the stretched look of a Core-Worlder who has seen the plasti-med droid too often. His face was pale and refined, but oddly immobile. His eyes reminded Samri of the skies before a telan storm came. The icy eyes were a promise of destruction and grief. Samri shivered, but met the cool, gray gaze.

The man chuckled in approval, studying her clear brown eyes. Then he yanked her forward by pulling on her long brown curls. Idly he rubbed the silken length between his fingers, giving a sharp, painful tug before releasing it.

Coming to a sudden decision, he turned to Gray. "She'll do," he said. "Put her on my transport."

Samri cried out, trying to grab Ylez, but the troopers dragged her out of the cargo hold with insulting ease.

She looked back over her shoulder, trying to get one last glimpse of Ylez, but then the doors slid closed and there was nothing more to see.

Nothing at all.

**************************

The pale man came to her small room – cell? – his frame filling the doorway. She blinked at the sudden light flowing in from the hall behind him. They had kept her in the dark for the most part.

"You should feel honored, girl," he said in a haughty tone.

"Excuse my rudeness, but I don't feel particularly honored," she replied through clenched teeth.

Quicker than a blink, he had crossed the room and his hand had connected with her face in a stinging slap. She tasted blood and her cheek burned.

"You'd better learn some manners if you want to survive very long," he said.

"I'd rather be dead than to pleasure you," Samri hissed.

He laughed and she shivered. "Oh, you're not for me, girl," he told her with an odd and gleeful smile on his face. "You're intended for someone much more important than me!" His hand squeezed her breast cruelly. Samri glared at him, but would not give him the satisfaction of begging him to release his grip on her. He had the look of one who would like to hear a woman beg just so he could make her suffer more.

She grew still and his other hand closed around her jaw. "And if you don't learn to behave yourself, it will be your family that suffers."

Samri paled. "No, you can't do-"

His hand came rushing up to her face once more and a loud smack filled the small cabin. "I can do whatever I please to your family, and you would do well to remember that."

The tall man threw her on the bunk.

He stopped in the doorway and turned to her once more. "The one you'll be serving wants only your unquestioning obedience," he said. "Give him that and you_ may_ survive." Then he laughed cruelly. "Though I doubt you'll last any longer than the others."


	2. Chapter 2: A New Life

**Chapter 2: A New Life**

She had been deposited with no ceremony and given over to another servant, who had escorted her immediately to a dark, forbidding castle. Unable to take in the sights and still follow the servant, Samri had found herself stumbling on the way. Besides, what did her surroundings matter? She was still a slave. Even the servant sneered at her, eyeing her rough garments with disdain.

With a nod, the servant had thrust her into this room, which was dim and full of shadows, as though the sun outside could not burn away the darkness within.

"You were told why you are here?" The voice came from a shadowed corner, frightening the girl even further.

She whirled around as she heard the soft fall of boot heels on the marble floor. A cloaked figure stepped into the dim light, but was so heavily concealed that she could only guess at his gender and species from his voice, though he could be any type of humanoid. Male. Big.

One slim hand reached out to her. Human then. "Sit," the voice ordered. A cold and forbidding voice.

"Thank you, milord," she said politely, the tall man's warnings ringing in her ears.

/Do as he says, do not argue. What your tasks will be I am not sure. Any other being and I would say he intends to put you in his bed. But this one…he is not like any other./ Samri still was not sure if those words had been intended to reassure her or not. Probably not.

"You were told why I required your services?"

From her seat, she looked up at the dark figure. Her fingers began to pluck at her skirt. "I was told only that I must obey milord in all things," she murmured.

A grunt issued from the hood of the cloak.

"True enough, I suppose," the voice said. "You are prepared to do exactly as you're told and not ask questions?"

For just a moment, anger flashed in her brown eyes. But then she slowly lowered her lashes. "I will do what I must do, milord," she answered carefully. Let him make of her words what he would.

There was silence from the figure. "Yes, I am sure you will," he said at last.

She stood up abruptly, unable to sit still any longer. "Very well, milord. If you'll just give me my orders, I'll be on my way. My name is-"

The elegant hand came up once again and both her breath and her name were blocked in her throat. A momentary squeeze – a warning - and the pressure was removed as the hand fell back into the shadows of the cloak once more. "I don't need or _want_ to know your name," the voice informed her coldly.

Her eyes wide with fear, she nodded mutely.

"My needs are simple," he continued calmly. "I require your presence here in this lodging so that there is no delay between my orders and the fulfillment of those orders." He turned and began to pace. "My Master requires me to be available at all times, so my free time is limited and I do not intend to waste any of it looking for _you_."

"Yes, milord," she found her voice again. "Might I ask what my duties will include?"

There was an ugly chuckle from the cloaked figure and two hands came up and pushed back the hood. There stood revealed a man who would have been strikingly handsome – if not for the coldness of his blue eyes. His lips twisted in something that vaguely resembled a smile. An icy shiver ran up Samri's spine and she swallowed hard.

"Haven't you guessed?" The man asked, one eyebrow rising as he took a step closer.

She shook her head wildly, though she had a fairly good idea of why she might have been sent here. Girls in her village were not sheltered or pampered. They lived among rough men who, though they would never dishonor an honest man's virtuous daughter, made no secret of their needs. The physical needs of the human species were no mystery to her, virgin or not.

He came to a halt right in front of her and leaned down so that his coldly beautiful face was close to hers. His hand was hard and the black leather was smooth on her skin as he lifted her chin. He studied her closely, a frown gathering in his expression. "How old are you?" He asked suddenly.

"Se…seventeen, milord," she stammered. Everyone grew up fast in her village and she would have probably been married soon to a man of her father's choosing. The thought ripped through her with an agony that shocked her.

Something strange passed briefly through the cold blue eyes, but then he smirked. "Not quite what I had in mind, but you do fit the description I gave my servant," he mused, lifting a brown curl and rubbing it between his fingers. "So I'll not punish him – he did follow my orders, after all." He gave a slight sigh.

His words seemed all the more cruel because his voice was so detached. He honestly did not care if his servant lived or died. It was a lesson to her, delivered as casually as death would be if she did not please him. She shivered, her brown eyes locked with his blue ones.

"Please…" All of her intentions to bravely face her fate faded away before this strange, frightening man.

He leaned down and his lips ghosted over hers. They were surprisingly warm and soft, completely at odds with his eyes. After only that single tentative touch of his mouth against hers he pulled back just a bit. "Don't speak," he ordered and then his mouth crashed down over hers in a punishing kiss. It was not a caress; it was a demonstration of his absolute power over her.

One unyielding hand came up behind her head, twisting hard in her hair and the other clenched at her hip, pulling her against him. Even through thick layers of clothing, she felt his erection pressing into the soft flesh of her belly. She was an innocent, but she was not a fool.

With a harsh groan, he jerked her even closer and his hips thrust forward, grinding his erection against her. She found herself being pushed back – back against the cold gray wall – while his tongue explored her mouth. His cock felt huge as he rolled his hips back and forth.

She cried out when she felt his hand fumbling at her skirt, lifting it up. She began to struggle against him until he bit down sharply on her lip and she tasted blood as her lip throbbed and ached. He pulled back and glared at her. "You are to do as you're told," he said in a harsh voice. "Do not forget that."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "But I've never-" She could not help the words of protest, even though she knew he would not care.

Something she might have called regret moved through his eyes and was gone. "You are a virgin?" He hissed the last word, making it a curse.

She nodded, unable to speak.

He clenched his jaw and then his hand returned to her skirt. The long fingers shoved aside the garment that barred him from her body. Without preamble, his fingers thrust up into the core of her, searching for something.

She felt pressure deep within her and the fingers were abruptly withdrawn as a sigh of irritation escaped him.

He let her go and she leaned against the wall, not trusting her legs to support her. He paced like a caged cat, running his hands through his hair.

"That fool!" He muttered. "What use is a virgin to me?"

Samri trembled, wondering if her virginity would displease this strange man so much that he decided she was of no use. And then she wondered why she even cared anymore. Perhaps a quick, clean death would be preferable. But she was young and life seemed to hold such promise…

He stopped abruptly, interrupting her thoughts, and looked at her. "I don't have time to make things easy…" His words trailed off. "I must leave soon. My Master commands it and I must obey." His voice was bitter and she shivered. To command one such as this one would be a perilous thing indeed.

His hands brushed down over his groin, his face taut with need that even she recognized. His erection had not subsided, if anything it seemed to have grown larger since he pressed it against her. His expression became sly and he approached her once again. He moved forward until he was pressed up against her, his need prodding her softness. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, his finger tracing her lips.

"And what about this sweet mouth?"

She trembled at his words, guessing his intent. Unable to answer, she simply stared at him, her brown eyes filled with tears.

"Don't look at me," he hissed. Immediately her lashes fell to shield him from her gaze.

He laughed; it was an ugly sound that made her hold her breath.

"Your choice then," he whispered. "You may take me in that innocent mouth of yours and I'll rid you of your troublesome virginity upon my return, or…" His hand trailed up her thigh and beneath her skirt. Unerringly, he found her center and slowly inserted one long finger. "Or we can get that out of the way now, though I won't be able to spare much time to ease the way."

Samri began to feel light-head, felt her knees begin to buckle.

His tongue came out and licked her ear. "Better hurry or I'll make the choice for you," he murmured. Then his finger was shoved up roughly inside of her and she felt something start to give, but the digit retreated before that could happen.

"My…mouth…" she said in a husky voice. What kind of choice was it really? It would only delay the inevitable, but she might get lucky and his Master would kill him. Hysterical laughter welled up within her, and it was only by the greatest of efforts that she tamped it down deep inside of her. But it lurked there, threatening.

He chuckled and then trailed his lips down her throat. "I thought you'd choose that," he said in a disappointed voice. He pulled back and smirked. "Hoping to buy some time, are you?"

He sounded so certain that she found herself answering the dangerous question with a nod.

Almost tenderly, he brushed back her dark curls. "It's all right to hope, even if it's useless…" he murmured. Then his shoulders straightened.

"Very well then," he said as he planted heavy hands on her shoulders. With his hand so close to her ear, she heard a faint whir and click issue from his black glove. The hand on her other shoulder was bone and blood covered in light golden flesh, one finger still glistening slightly from his invasion of her body.

Suddenly the hands pushed her to her knees and the black glove went to the fastening of his trousers. He gave one swift, impatient jerk and his fully erect cock bounced out; he hissed and then twined his fingers in her hair.

"Open your mouth," he ground out.

Hesitantly, her lips parted.

"Lick me," the cold voice ordered.

She shot an anxious glance up his way, but when his eyes met hers he snarled. "Do not look at me!"

Obeying quickly, she closed her eyes. She ran her tongue tentatively over the weeping crown and felt his hips jerk in response.

"Yes," he hissed. "More."

She licked the turgid flesh, felt it move and quiver beneath her tongue.

"Suck me," he instructed with an impatient thrust of his hips.

Samri made an involuntary sound of protest and the hand tightened in her hair, making her eyes sting. "Suck. Me. Now." The voice was implacable and frosty.

With a shuddering sigh, she accepted the firm length of his flesh into her mouth. Her hands came up to his hips, hoping in vain to control the motion of his cock. But he simply rolled his hips forward with a harsh grunt and she felt herself gag.

With a frustrated growl, he grabbed the hair at the top of her head and began pumping in a slow, steady motion that became deeper with each stroke. With his hand holding her head in place and the implacable motion of his body, she had no choice.

/Relax your throat./ The words seemed to echo in her mind and she found herself unable to resist them.

His cock was soon bumping the back of her throat with every lunge of his body and then she heard him gasp and the flesh within her mouth jerked and convulsed, followed by a cascade of bitter, salty fluid that flooded her mouth.

His hips still worked his cock in and out of her mouth until at last it softened. They both pulled away with a sigh of relief. He lifted up her chin and this thumb swept away a drop of his seed from her lips. She did not meet his gaze and he gave a grunt that sounded vaguely approving.

"I shall look forward to our next encounter," he said as he arranged our clothing with casual ease.

"Tell the servants that Lord Vader wants you installed in the east wing," he said matter-of-factly. "They will know what sort of accommodations to give you."

And then, in a swirl of the ebony cloak, he was gone.


	3. Chapter 3: The End of Innocence

**I don't own these characters. I'm merely playing in a galaxy far, far away.**

**Chapter 3: The End of Innocence**

Weeks passed and Samri's days became routine. She would find a servant hovering over in the morning, a tray of delicious food waiting. In many ways, she was the "lady" of the manor, yet she could never forget that the guards who stood so silently about the palace were there not only to protect the inhabitants, but to keep her from leaving.

They did not wear the white armor of the troopers who had destroyed her village, but they seemed inhuman nonetheless. Their eyes were cold and distant, never meeting hers, even when they gave her an order.

The girl became friends with the cook, who let her try her hand in the well-appointed kitchen. It was a way to pass the time and fill the boring hours. The cook, an older human female named Lira, welcomed the young woman gladly. Lira was happy to share what she knew of the mysterious Lord Vader with Samri, though it wasn't much.

"I've heard he was once a Jedi," Lira whispered as they kneaded some bread dough.

Samri stopped what she was doing. "I can't believe that!" She exclaimed. "Jedi were good…" Samri lowered her voice, looking around her. It was not a safe thing to speak well of the Jedi anymore. Not safe at all.

Samri lowered her voice further. "But all the Jedi are dead."

Lira glanced around before answering. "Lord Vader killed 'em all," she murmured. "Least that's what I heard." The cook studied the young girl. "What do you think of his lordship?"

"I hate him," she answered coolly.

"He's a cold one, that's for sure," Lira answered as she shivered. "Those eyes of his – they just look right through you as if you were a piece of furniture or something."

"Or something…" Samri answered bitterly.

Lira paused. "Is it true, then?" She blushed and whispered. "Have you been in his bed?"

"We never quite made it to the bed," Samri answered tightly. "Apparently, breaking in a virgin is not quick work, so he just used my mouth and went on his way."

The cook put a motherly arm around Samri but did not seem surprised. Such stories were all too common. "Ah, you poor thing…"

The dam holding back the weeks of tears suddenly burst, and Samri cried for her lost family and freedom. She sobbed out her pain and fear in Lira's soft arms. At last, her tears were spent and she shuddered as Lira brushed back her hair. "It'll be all right," Lira whispered.

Samri pulled away and wiped off her face angrily. She hated feeling weak and helpless, almost as much as she hated the enigmatic Lord Vader who owned her.

"How often does he come back?"

Lira shrugged and went back to kneading the dough, recognizing that the girl needed time to regain her composure. "Never can tell," she replied. "Sometimes he's here for weeks on end and sometimes we don't see him for months."

"What do you know about him? I mean, personally," Samri asked, for she was curious despite herself.

"Not much," Lira admitted. "He doesn't talk much to us, except to give orders, that is," she said. "I've heard it said that he keeps a locked box in his bed chamber." Lira began to look worried. "A servant from the village pulled it out once, thought she'd take a peek," the cook began to tremble. "But he caught her…"

"What happened?"

Lira glanced around her apprehensively. "No one really knows," she replied. "But milord called in some men to take out her body."

"What did he do to her?"

"They said it looked like he choked her to death."

Samri remembered the ghostly feeling of invisible hands around her throat, and she suspected that she knew exactly how the unfortunate woman had died. She also knew how easily he could take her life, should he chose to do so.

Suddenly, she was too weary to concentrate any more. "I think I'll go lie down, Lira," she said. "I'm tired."

"Go on then, you've been keeping your self too busy," Lira scolded.

"I did much more work at home," Samri replied defensively, but allowing Lira to push her out of the kitchen.

"But you weren't worrying about milord coming home then either, "Lira said shrewdly. "Go, sleep!"

Samri went up to her bedchamber and settled into her soft bed. The warmth of the chamber made her even drowsier. She dreamed of cold blue eyes staring at her, crouched over her. Then she felt the touch of a leather glove trailing up her thighs.

Her sleep was uneasy, marred by dreams of the one they called Vader.

*****************************************************

She slept all afternoon and when she woke, the sun had set long ago. The moon was shining brightly upon the lake below her window. Feeling rested, Samri decided to take a swim in the warm waters of the lake.

Grabbing a towel, she ran lightly down the stairs. She glanced at the guard, who merely gave her a smirk and let her pass. Assuming that he would keep an eye on her from a distance, she fled to the lake, deciding not to question this brief freedom. She had no doubt they would hunt her down if she tarried too long.

She got to the shore and put one foot in the water. Laughing with delight at its warmth, she glanced around before she shed her clothes. The guards were too far away to see her and she longed for the brief freedom of swimming in the lake without the encumbrance of clothing.

Skillfully, she dove into the water and came to the surface. Samri reclined in the water, letting her body float in the waters, the moon giving her enough light to see her surroundings. How long she drifted there, she did not know. But it was the first moment of true peace she had had since she came here – since she had woken up in her home the morning the troopers had come.

Sighing, she knew she should return before the guards came looking for her, so she made her way to the shore and began to walk out of the lake. She stopped short when she saw the hooded figure standing there.

It was him.

Samri's chin jerked up and she tried to conceal her trembling, which was not entirely from the chilly night air. She halted several meters away from him but he closed the gap quickly, her clothing dangling from his gloved fingers.

"You like to swim?" he asked.

Taken aback by the question when she had expected a rebuke, she simply nodded and reached for her clothes. He held them away from her and one corner of his mouth twitched, as if he wanted to smile.

"I haven't seen you without your clothing," he murmured, taking a pace back to better view her body.

It was only with the greatest of efforts that she kept her hands from shielding her breasts and the curls between her legs.

He reached out with his other hand and ran his thumb across her nipple. Samri bit her lip at the unfamiliar sensation. It was both irritating and intriguing. But she had no idea what it meant.

Vader came closer once more and he tossed her clothes to the dirt below. She made a sound of protest that was muffled by his lips crashing down on hers. He hauled her up against the hardness of his chest, barely softened by the tunics and cloak he wore.

When she did not open her mouth quickly enough, he nipped at her lips and her gasp of surprise gave him the opportunity to invade her mouth with his tongue. Long, slow sweeps of his tongue explored her mouth while his flesh and blood hand came to grasp her breast. His fingers plucked hard at her nipple, walking a fine line between pleasure and pain.

He pulled back and examined her flushed face in the moonlight. His own breathing was rapid, but a pleased smile softened his face just a bit. The eyes, though, were still cold.

"You'll warm my bed quite nicely, I think," he murmured against her throat, where he nibbled at her thundering pulse.

"I did not expect you back so soon," Samri said, trying to ignore the way his hand was traveling down between her thighs.

"You are not to expect anything but what I give you," he admonished her in a cold voice even as his fingers teased the folds of her sex. His touch was skillful and she felt moisture begin to slick his fingers.

Desperate and overwhelmed, she pushed him away and stumbled back. "Please, milord… I've never…"

He laughed and shook his head. "Ah yes! That pesky virginity…" He pursed his lips. "So I suppose you don't want me to take you here on the dirt under the moonlight?"

"I… "

Vader grabbed her hand and jerked her close to him, the folds of his cloak shifting to envelop them both. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, his breath hot against her cool skin. "I am going to take you," he murmured, his fingers returning to her core. "I'm going to put my cock where no man has ever been before…" his fingers thrust up into her, drawing a sharp cry. "Perhaps a virgin wasn't such a bad idea, after all." He wrapped his cloak around her and picked her up before she had time to protest.

He strode quickly back to his castle, giving the grinning guards a nod as he walked past them with Samri in his arms. The room to his chamber flew open as he approached it and she heard it slam shut behind them.

Then she felt herself falling the short distance to his huge bed, draped all in black, just like him. He stood over her for a moment, his eyes just as they had been in her dream. His eyes never left hers as he stripped off his cloak and then his tunics. He leaned down to take off his boots, his eyes still locked with hers. She was mesmerized by that icy blue gaze, unable to look away or even to cover herself.

Then he was left only in his black pants, the leather creaking just slightly as he slowly removed them. Then he lowered his body to the bed, He lay on his side, head propped up on his hand as he studied her.

One long-fingered hand reached out to palm her breast, his touch idly curious. He did not speak, merely leaned down for another kiss, this one hard and hot and demanding. He rolled slightly so that she was beneath him, his body pressing hers down into the soft bed.

Then his fingers were between her legs again, seeking, probing, tantalizing, and teasing. She groaned and her legs fell apart of their own volition. He moaned in response to her movement and she felt his huge erection prodding at her thigh. Suddenly, she became aware of what was happening and tried to scurry away, but his hands were hard and inescapable.

"Just relax," he ordered in a harsh voice, all traces of tenderness gone.

Samri tried to convince herself that this was no different than if her husband was staking his claim. If things had gone as they were supposed to, her father would have chosen a man to be her husband, and he would have had the right to take her. She would have belonged to him. In all likelihood, he would have been no more or less gentle than Lord Vader was being. Love, as all the women told her, came after the wedding and the bedding.

_This is the same..._

She tried very hard to tell herself that this had been her fate all along. A strange man about to make his flesh one with hers. Inevitable. Fate.

He came up to his elbows, leaning over her. Then one hand traced down her side, holding her steady at her hip. She began to tremble and tried to shift away as the hardness of his cock began butting against her entrance. It felt huge and she remembered the taste of that firm flesh in her mouth, the way his seed had flooded her mouth and trickled down her throat.

"No…" she whimpered. "Please…not yet…"

"Yes," he muttered implacably. His jaw clenched and his hips rolled forward, his hand still holding her firmly in place. His eyes rolled back in his head and he thrust forward hard, sheathing himself in one motion. Samri felt something inside her give, and a sharp pain made her gasp and dig her nails into his shoulders.

It hurt, oh gods, it hurt. She was stretched and invaded, her body struggling to accommodate his girth.

He ignored her pain and the bite of her nails in his flesh. He let go of her hip and rested on his elbows, the enormous cock inside of her thrusting in and out without pause. A steady rhythm that got faster and deeper, until sweat beaded on his upper lip and forehead. She felt the sweat slicking both of their bodies as he moved within her. Her hands clutched at his shoulders and a tear traced its way down her cheek.

Vader's eyes were closed, and he began to grunt with the effort of stroking into her. A tingling sensation started in her belly and she felt poised on the edge of some mysterious precipice. Still, his cock moved in and out of her body with precise strokes that plunged deeply into her core.

She felt him gasp and then he lowered his head and bit sharply at her throat and she cried out in surprise and pain. Then his seed was spurting hot inside of her and she drifted away from that abyss to which he had taken her. Unsatisfied and yet not knowing why, she trembled in his arms. Blood trickled down her throat and she felt the rough rasp of his tongue as he lapped at it.

Blood smeared her thighs as he pulled out of her with a weary sigh.

"You may sleep here tonight," he said, as if conceding a great kindness. Then he pulled the black shimmersilk coverlet over both of them and fell asleep.

When sleep finally overcame Samri she found she was dreaming of the cold blue eyes and hot length of flesh moving inside of her, stealing her innocence over and over again.

Lord Vader was in a contemplative mood as he sat before fire. His trip to the capital had been frustrating on many levels. His Master stared at him with new suspicions, as if someone had been whispering nasty insinuations in his ear.

He needed to redirect the old man's attention. There were many possibilities, but he had to hit upon the misdirection that would be the most effective. There was no dangerous hurry, but he did not want to delay too long.

Sighing, he stared at the black glove and flexed his hand. It was not often he even remembered that this was not the hand he had been born with, not until he saw realization in another's eyes. It had been in the girl's eyes that first night. However, there had been neither horror nor pity in her gaze.

It was as interesting as it was refreshing.

She was intriguing, his little rustic farmer's daughter. She had potential; he had sensed that on their first meeting. There was an inner core of honesty about her that drew him, though he did not wish it to. She was no replacement, but she could prove to be useful and he found he could tolerate her company.

Yes, perhaps it was almost time.


End file.
